Dark for Dawning
by Lady Nara
Summary: After Mittsui goes to jail, Yuzuru is hopeful that friendship will blossom between him and Takaya. But nothing is ever easy with Takaya.
1. Aftermath

**Disclaimer**: Mirage of Blaze belongs to its creator, Kuwabara Mizuna. Which is not me.

**Acknowledgements**: Written for starsandtildes' request for a Takaya and Yuzuru story. Many thanks to Asphodel for her translation of Takaya's back story!

Happy Belated Birthday to my beloved Takaya-san! Apologies to starsandtildes for taking so long to fill her request. Chapter 2 is complete and in editing, so I promise I will post it before I go on vacation at the end of this week.

For those of you who saw "Mittsui" and went "Huh? Where's 'Mittsui' in the anime?", he's not. This fic is set after Takaya's back story, "Itetsuita Tsubasa," which explains how Takaya and Yuzuru met in Junior High. It is part of the side story between volumes 5 and 6 of the novels. You can find it at Asphodel's Haven here (.com/translations/view/novel/mirage_sa/07) starting in the middle right after "Saiai no Anata e."

* * *

Dark for Dawning

* * *

Yuzuru told himself that he should just be grateful Takaya was warming to him, if the cessation of actual threats on his life could be called "warming." He did feel that they had made some major strides. They had met several times now, sometimes staying close to Yuzuru or Takaya's home, sometimes eating out, usually Yuzuru's treat. Once, he had managed to coax Takaya into his house to play video games. Three times, Yuzuru had been on his way home from band practice when Takaya had "bumped into" him. Yuzuru had to wonder if Takaya had known how obvious he was being, and exactly how long Takaya had waited around that corner for Yuzuru to come walking by. From the cold Takaya picked up the third time, he suspected quite a while. As terrible as it was, it made Yuzuru…a little happy.

Yes, there was much to be thankful for in the events of the past few months. Yuzuru knew that he did not have the right to feel impatient, especially about something so relatively small.

Takaya still wouldn't talk to him at school.

He made no effort to seek Yuzuru out or acknowledge his presence at all, even though they were in the same class. If Yuzuru tried to approach him, Takaya would leave. If he couldn't easily leave, Takaya would stare through him in a way that caused Yuzuru's friends to pluck anxiously at his sleeves until he came away.

"Jeez, Narita, you're nice to everyone," Yuzuru's friend Lee groused after the latest attempt. "Can't you see that guy's no good? Being nice to a person like that is just a waste. Worse, it makes you a target."

Yuzuru wasn't sure how to defend his new friend's character without breaking confidence. It didn't seem like Takaya wanted people to know that he was any more than the thug his classmates took him for. And Yuzuru was still trying to figure out how much of Takaya's punkish exterior was camouflage and how much really was just Takaya.

While Yuzuru was certain now of Takaya's essential goodness, his stability was another matter. Takaya was frighteningly unpredictable. It made Yuzuru wary of making assurances to his friends about Takaya's future behavior.

All of which meant that Yuzuru stayed silent, but wondered if he was betraying Takaya by doing so. Was Takaya aware at all of these exchanges? There was something about Takaya's dark eyes that gave the impression that he knew everything that went on at school. Of course that couldn't be true, but Yuzuru wished he knew what the other boy was thinking.

_How do I look to you? What am I to you?_

The clink of dishes in the sink brought Yuzuru back to earth with a start. He gathered up the glasses and brought them over to where his mother was washing up after dinner. He turned to go to his room, intending to study for his English test the next morning. All this daydreaming had to stop. It was ridiculous to be spending so much time thinking about someone who, from all appearances, spared little thought for him. His mother's voice stopped him.

"You've been seeing a lot of that Ougi child lately."

"Is that alright with you?"

"Of course." His mother sounded surprised. "It's obvious that boy could use a good influence. And your friends are always welcome here." She hesitated. "I'm glad that you want to help your classmate. But…"

"But?"

She wrung out the dishrag slowly, thoroughly.

"Are you sure that he wants the same thing you do?"

"What do you mean?"

She smiled at his reflection in the kitchen window.

"You're such a good boy. You always see the best in others. That makes it possible for you to be on good terms with all kinds of people. But just because you want to be friends with someone doesn't mean they want to be friends with you. There are many reasons someone might not reject your kindness."

"Are you trying to say that Takaya is just using me?"

Yuzuru surprised himself with the edge in his voice. He didn't get angry very often and not usually with his mother. Theirs was an affectionate and relaxed family. Yet anger was undeniably what he felt now, blooming suddenly in his chest, uncomfortably hot and tight. He didn't like it.

_Is this how Takaya feels all the time?_

It felt somehow lonely.

Yuzuru's mother's lips tightened at his tone but she did not back down. She turned around and met his sharp look, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Maybe. Sometimes if a child learns he has to take everything because nothing is ever given, he goes through his whole life that way, always taking, never able to understand another way. Even if he isn't consciously taking advantage of you, you may be the first person to be kind to him in a long time. A hungry man might eat food given to him, but that doesn't mean he cares for the provider of the meal."

Yuzuru actually trembled with the force of his anger. He knew he had to get away before he said something he'd regret.

"I just don't want you to be hurt, Yuzu-chan," his mother said softly.

"You don't know anything about him."

"I know. But can you honestly say you do?"

Yuzuru stormed from the room.

* * *

Between classes, a change came over the student body. The normally obedient and orderly students loosened their collars and fell into noisy chatter. The girls huddled in gossip circles while the boys engaged in more rowdy play.

Takaya might have been expected to participate in the latter, being rougher in nature, as the large bruise under his eye and split lip could attest. But he rarely did, tending to hold himself aloof from his classmates. Or perhaps they were too afraid to approach him, it was difficult to tell. Either way, no spit balls or paper airplanes came his way and no one tried to put him in a headlock.

Braver than the others, Kayama came close enough to lounge against the wall by the chair Takaya was tipping back. Takaya ignored him.

"Damn, does that kid ever stop clicking his pen? How can you stand sitting next to him all the time?"

Takaya gave the barest indication of a shrug. His eyes roamed lazily beneath lowered lashes. He almost looked like he was falling asleep, causing the other boys to roughhouse carelessly nearer than they normally would. Kayama observed the steady gleam beneath those heavy lids and thought that only a fool would believe Takaya ever rested.

Suddenly one of their classmates stumbled backwards from a push, knocking the desk of the pen-clicking boy into Takaya's chair. Takaya was caught off-balance and clattered with his chair to the floor. The boy who had stumbled, Daijiro, looked ridiculous trying to shove his glasses back into place and gaping at Takaya with horror on his long, horsey face.

Takaya didn't bother to get up immediately. He favored Daijiro with a menacing stare from his sprawl on the floor. As he climbed slowly to his feet, he never once broke eye contact. Neither did Daijiro, though it seemed like he wished he could.

"You have a problem with me?"

"What? No-"

"It's bad manners to start without introducing yourself. Don't you even know that?"

No introductions were really necessary, since the two had been in the same class for long enough to know each other by sight. Takaya was referring to the usual protocol for a fight between two delinquents. Daijiro paled.

"I didn't mean to. I swear I didn't!"

"Didn't mean to what? Didn't mean to throw yourself at him? You expect him to believe that?" Kayama interrupted eagerly.

"It was an accident! Hiroshi pushed me and I couldn't stop!" His friend Hiroshi shook his head frantically and stepped away as if Daijiro had contracted a contagious disease.

"What the hell? Aren't you even going to apologize?" Kayama snarled with obvious relish. Irritation clouded Takaya's face and he narrowed his eyes at Kayama warningly. Kayama was too excited to notice.

"He could have broken something with a nasty fall like that! How are you going to take responsibility?"

Caught in the middle, Daijiro and Hiroshi glanced rapidly between the pissed-looking Takaya and the aggressively grimacing Kayama. No path of escape was evident.

"What do you want?"

"Well, for starters…"

"Kayama."

Kayama shut up, belatedly aware that he had overstepped his boundaries.

Takaya snorted and dropped into his chair. He tipped back again and crossed his legs on top of his desk, daring anyone else to try and knock him over.

"All I want is for you to leave me the hell alone."

Daijiro dipped his head repeatedly in relief, backing away. Hiroshi stayed where he was, perhaps thinking to resolve the issue while in a public place rather than risking retribution meted out later.

"Please, won't you accept our apologies for troubling you?"

"Didn't you hear him? Get lost!" Kayama couldn't resist snapping. Takaya rolled his eyes, then looked at Hiroshi, considering.

"Well, if you really regret it…now that you mention it, I'm kind of hungry."

"Hungry? Well, I…I don't…"

"What? Did you not mean what you just said? Didn't you say that you wanted to make it up to me?"

This was not in fact what Hiroshi had said, but he could not think of how to deny it without making the situation worse.

"I hate insincere people more than anything. They make me sick."

"No, we are sincere. Definitely sincere!"

"Really? That's good to know. Then, I noticed they had some Miso bread today. Bring me some during lunch hour and we'll forget all about this."

"Great," Hiroshi said, heart sinking. He had only brought enough money for his lunch and he knew that Daijiro had done the same. "You're too generous."

"Yeah, I know," Takaya said. "Anyway, get out of my sight until then, okay? I'm tired of looking at that stupid face of yours."

"R-right."

The two scrambled to get back to their own side of the classroom. To have escaped unscathed from the boy who intimidated even the yankee* crowd was practically miraculous, as far as they were concerned. They really considered Takaya to be such a dangerous person.

Kayama's laughter was grating, low as it was. Before Takaya could say anything, another voice cut in.

"Ougi-kun. Could I have a word with you?"

Takaya and Kayama glanced up and saw Narita Yuzuru in the doorway next to them. His face was unusually stern. No, more than that. He was well and truly angry. It should have been funny to see evidence of a temper in those large, round eyes, thinning that soft mouth. Kayama shivered and looked nervously at Takaya, expecting him to refuse. Instead, Takaya got to his feet and walked past Yuzuru out of the classroom.

"Fine."

* * *

Takaya walked ahead, taking long enough strides to make Yuzuru struggle to keep up, without making himself look hurried. He resisted the temptation to look back. He could hear Yuzuru's uneven footfalls behind him as he descended the stairs; there was no reason to think he hadn't followed.

Takaya swung over the rail, dropping the last few feet in a crouch behind the staircase. The shadowy niche afforded some privacy. No one could look into it without first being seen by its occupants. Graffiti on the underside of the stairs and cigarette butts littering the floor testified that they were not the first to take refuge there.

Yuzuru showed the patience that Takaya lacked, walking down the last few stairs and taking the sharp right under the staircase without hesitation. The transition from fluorescent lighting to dimness was sudden enough that for a few moments the only thing he could clearly see was the glimmer of Takaya's eyes, swallowing up what little light there was. Cheshire-like, Takaya's shadowy outline gradually took on substance and clarity around them.

"Well? What do you want?"

"Here."

Takaya's arm froze mid-raise, reacting to Yuzuru's sudden forward movement. By now Yuzuru's eyes were sufficiently adjusted for him to fully appreciate the look on Takaya's face as he took in the money in Yuzuru's outthrust hand. After Takaya closed his mouth, his lips drew a decidedly less comic line.

"What is this?"

"You're hungry, right? Take this and get something. You don't have to steal."

Takaya didn't bother to deny the charge. Even if he had tried to argue the point, both of them knew he had not shrunk from extortion in the past.

"I don't need your handouts."

"When was the last time you ate?"

The anger Takaya had seen earlier had completely disappeared. There was only compassion in Yuzuru's eyes, a blatant, shameless compassion that made Takaya feel almost more humiliated for Yuzuru as the one revealing it than for himself as its object.

"That's none of your business. I can take care of myself. I was just messing with those morons. Cute little rich boys like that can easily get more where that came from."

"That's a big assumption you're making. Do you know all about their circumstances, to make a judgment like that? And what's so fun about picking on guys who are weaker than you are? That's the sort of thing cowards enjoy. I don't believe you're a coward, Takaya."

"Hiroshi is taller than me and a lot heavier."

"I didn't say physically weaker."

"Who the hell do you think you are, lecturing me?" Takaya seized his collar, snarling into his face.

"You've got to be kidding me! Fuck off!"

"Takaya-"

"What's going on here?"

Their heads whipped around at the deep voice. They had been so distracted that they hadn't noticed the approach of the man now silhouetted at the entrance.

"Get over here, both of you."

Takaya cursed inwardly. Of all people, it had to be Oonuki the guidance counselor. The stupid ape already had a smug smile on his face. He had been looking for an excuse to screw with Takaya for a long time and now he thought he'd caught him red-handed. Glancing from Takaya to Yuzuru, his brows raised.

"Narita?"

"Yes, sir?"

Staring into Yuzuru's calm face, Oonuki appeared to be reevaluating the situation. Takaya could practically hear the rusty gears turning in that thick head.

"Alright, Narita, you can go." Oonuki turned dismissively.

"What about Ougi-kun, sir?"

The big man glanced back in surprise.

"That is none of your concern. You get back to class before your teacher counts you absent. It would be a pity to tarnish your perfect record."

Torn, Yuzuru hesitated, gazing at Takaya over Oonuki's retreating shoulder. Takaya stared back forbiddingly. Yuzuru's shoulders straightened.

* * *

_To be continued…_

* * *

_*Yankee = Japanese term for delinquent youth._


	2. Full Stop

_AN: Sorry for the delay! Thank you for your support._

* * *

2

* * *

Oonuki grabbed Takaya's elbow before the echo of Yuzuru's footsteps had fully faded, hustling him along. Takaya didn't need to ask where they were going.

Oonuki flung open the door to the teachers' room with his left arm and shoved Takaya inside with his right. Takaya caught himself on the edge of a desk before he could fall. At the end of break, there was only one young teacher still in the room. He hurried off to his class without giving them a second glance, books gripped precariously under both arms.

Oonuki didn't deign to settle himself behind his desk, but paced around with his hands folded behind his back, stopping only to pull the blinds on the windows shut. Thin bars of sun glare cut through the slat gaps, striping Takaya from head to toe and getting in his eyes.

Takaya turned away from the light and draped himself carelessly over the hard metal chair in front of Oonuki's desk, slouching down low and spreading his legs to take up the maximum amount of space.

"Thought you could get away with it, huh? Walking around like you own the damn place. But I've got you this time. There's no denying it, Ougi, you need some serious help."

The sneer Oodaru gave to the last word indicated that the sort of help he had in mind might not be beneficial to the recipient.

Takaya stared straight ahead at the wall, a picture of disdainful boredom. The sight only spurred the older man. He came right up and braced his forearms on the back of the chair, leaning to breathe down Takaya's neck. The sensation of hot breath trickling down his collar and along his spine was repulsive, but not more so than the stench of the seedy counselor's breath.

"One of our best students. An ambitious target, don't you think? What were you planning to do if you got caught? Oh, but that probably never occurred to you as a possibility."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Oonuki slammed both hands down on the back of the chair, making Takaya jump.

"Don't you speak that way to your superiors, boy."

"Guess that doesn't include you, then," Takaya shot back immediately, but his voice was huskier than it had been. Oonuki's smile as he moved around the chair to face him was fairly dripping with satisfaction.

"The school board won't just turn a blind eye to the bullying of one of the school's exemplary students, especially by a degenerate like you. If you're lucky and you beg hard enough, maybe they won't throw you out on your ass."

"Bullying? I did _not_-"

"Sure. What else could it be? Meeting in a dark corner with that frail-looking kid, scaring him into giving you money, roughing him up? After you were extorting money from your other classmates in plain sight of the rest of the class just minutes before? Who exactly do you think you're fooling? Do you think all your teachers are as stupid as you?"

Takaya gritted his teeth in frustration. The only way Oonuki could have found out about that so quickly was if another student had told him. Their teacher hadn't been there during break, after all. Who had it been?

Had Yuzuru gone to snitch on him? Had he drawn Takaya out as some kind of a set-up? Takaya shook off the ugly thought. No, that didn't make sense. Yuzuru didn't like Oonuki to begin with, and there was nothing for him to gain by getting Takaya in trouble. Besides, Yuzuru didn't seem like the type to be sneaky if he had a problem with somebody. Yuzuru's furious face from earlier flashed through his mind and he snorted.

Oonuki, watching him carefully, crossed his arms and leaned against his desk.

"Is there something funny about this, Ougi?"

Takaya shrugged one shoulder.

"You'd better think about getting rid of that nasty look if you want to graduate from middle school. Come to think of it, maybe you should just quit now and make it easy on yourself. It's clear that you're destined to be deadweight on society, rotting in jail when you're not out dirtying up this world. Or maybe you'll be a worthless drunk like your father and beat up women to make yourself feel better. It's in your blood, after all."

Years of silencing speech like that had Takaya jolting to his feet before he even knew he was moving. His fists clenched, thumbs correctly on the outside where a punch wouldn't break them, one leg shifting back and one forward so he could move quickly and take a hit without being thrown off-balance.

"Say that again."

Moisture and oil gave Oonuki's forehead a slick sheen. Takaya derived no satisfaction from watching Oonuki lower his eyes. Experience had taught him that cowing a man made him more dangerous, not less. Humiliation was a strong motivator.

"Maybe I have this all wrong," Oonuki said suddenly, staring at the floor. "Maybe you're telling the truth. You weren't shaking Narita down for money." Takaya's eyes widened in surprise.

"Maybe you were selling him drugs." Oonuki's voice was low and thick and Takaya felt his stomach lurch.

"That's ridiculous. You just said that Narita was one of the school's best students."

"He wouldn't be the first good kid to be corrupted by bad company. You can't have it both ways, Ougi. Either you're guilty of bullying or Narita's as shady as you are."

"This has nothing to do with Narita."

"You should have thought of that before you got him involved."

Takaya could think of nothing to say. Into that silence the bell rang. Oonuki smiled and opened the door with the grand gesture of a gracious host bidding a guest good night.

"I'll see you later, Ougi."

With that sinister promise ringing in his ears, Takaya stalked out.

* * *

Takaya knew as soon as he turned onto his street that his father was still home. Heedless of the electric bill, light blazed from every window.

There was no way to know what kind of mood he was in. After his relapse a few months back, he had managed to get himself hired again. Takaya had no idea how. The man had no favorable referrals to present, his resume was full of holes and he couldn't have too many strings left to pull. Still, a father gainfully employed was a father who could pay the bills. Even better, this job required the old man to travel frequently. He had been gone more often than home recently.

He had come home two nights ago and Takaya had been expecting him to have left already. That he was still home could mean that he had a longer break than usual between business trips. Or it could mean he had gotten himself fired. Either way, Takaya's presence would be unwelcome. Their father enjoyed boasting and complaining to Miya, but when Takaya was around, his mood took a darker, defensive turn. Anything Takaya said, any look that crossed his face, was sure to set the bastard off, no matter how innocent.

Miya thought her older brother protected her. Takaya knew the truth was that he was usually the instigator of their father's blackest moods, even if he could not figure out why. The man did not turn violent when Takaya was not around.

Funny how bad things tended to happen to the people who hung around him. It would be better for Miya and Yuzuru if he disappeared.

So he would, at least for a little while. Still, there was no sense in making Miya worry more than necessary. Takaya went to the corner gas station and searched in his pockets for change for the beat-up payphone.

"Moshi moshi."

"Miya. It's me."

"Niichan? Where are you? When are you coming home?"

"I'm not gonna be in tonight."

"But Dad is home tonight. Where are you going to go?" Miya's voice trembled a little and Takaya closed his eyes.

"I'm going over to a friend's house to play that new game. I'm not coming back till I beat it, so don't expect me home for a while."

"Oh." Relief colored her voice. "You're visiting Yuzuru-san?"

Why did Miya have to immediately think of that kid? A wrinkle worked its way between Takaya's brows, but he lied easily enough.

"Yeah. I'll see you later."

"I'll see you later," Miya whispered. Takaya cut the call.

Walking back the way he'd come, Takaya's stomach grumbled. He never had gotten that stupid Miso bread. When Hiroshi had approached him at lunchtime, Takaya had growled that he wasn't hungry after all so Hiroshi might as well get lost. It would have been stupid to give Oonuki another complaint against him.

Nothing had happened by the end of the day. Considering that Oonuki had been slavering for a chance to mess with him since the beginning of middle school, the delay seemed pretty suspicious at first. Upon reflection, it made sense that the sadistic bastard would want to draw out the suspense as long as possible. Maybe he was hoping that Takaya would break and come crawling back to do whatever he wanted.

Takaya viciously stabbed the night air with a drawn middle finger, startling a stray cat. After its initial shock, rather than fleeing, the ragged feline stood its ground and hissed at him with back-arching ferocity.

"What are you so mad about? I'm not hungry enough to go after _you_. You're too scrawny to make a decent meal. You've got nothing to fear from me."

The cat was unimpressed by this reassurance and made its displeasure known with an intimidating yowl.

"Oh, get over yourself. What's so threatening about me, anyway? What am I, a monster?"

He threw his arms wide and flapped them fiercely.

"Boo!"

The cat's nerve broke and it fled.

"Scaredy cat."

It wasn't like Takaya to tease animals. He had nothing but contempt for that kind of pastime. But tonight he felt sick to death of everything, most of all himself. He felt ugly inside, nasty and petty and childishly cruel.

_It's in your blood, after all._

He wanted to smash something.

"_Quit now and make it easy on yourself."_

What difference did it make whether he was here or in jail? He was just as helpless to change things in one place as the other.

Takaya halted. Without consciously thinking of it, his feet had taken him to Mittsui's hang-out. The abandoned building was shoddy and badly in need of repair, but it offered space, privacy, and the company of other restless teens. Most people never got further than the front rooms, where pool tables, card circles, cheap booze and cheaper girls were in abundance. Only the chosen few ever ventured to the garage in the back that comprised most of the building. It was there that Mittsui kept his harder drugs and his more dangerous activities out of sight.

Takaya had a vivid recollection of the one and only time he had ever been taken into the back.

After their initial encounter, Takaya's interactions with Mittsui had been mostly limited to just the two of them. Without his gang, their conversations had been casual, almost intimate. Mittsui seemed to get a perverse enjoyment out of Takaya's caustic personality. He especially loved doing things that he knew irritated Takaya, and nothing did a better job of that than acting like he owned Takaya; invading his personal space, shoving his hair out of his eyes, touching his shoulder, his back, sending his goons to interfere in Takaya's personal business.

It was this last which had sent him where he otherwise would never have dared to go without an invitation. He'd had little choice, though. If Mittsui had his people put middle schoolers in the hospital just because they'd roughed Takaya up a little, where would it end? He was treating Takaya like some kind of pet, and dispatching those who trespassed on his person with ruthless efficiency. Yokimori and Ichinose had been useless assholes, but Takaya would be damned if he'd allow a couple of cowards who couldn't even face him except in groups of three to be worked over by mafia wannabes.

Mittsui's followers had not been amused to have a scrawny, middle school punk come barging in demanding to see Mittsui. The only reason he hadn't had his ass pounded was that Mittsui happened to pass by. Typically, the gang leader had thought it would be more entertaining to take Takaya back and mess with his head than mangle his limbs.

If Mittsui's gangbangers had been unhappy to see him before, they would murder him on sight, now. It made no sense to come here.

Backtracking swiftly, Takaya's eye was caught by one of the motorcycles on the street. Its candy-red shell glinted wickedly in the light escaping the cracks of the shade-smothered windows.

He'd seen people steal motorcycles, of course, many times. It was one of those things that bored kids did when the opportunity arose. They would bring the bikes back when they'd had their fun, so the police wouldn't usually waste the manpower trying to hunt them down. He knew the basics of hotwiring from observing other kids, he'd just never actually done it himself. Swiping a random bike off the corner of some back street was one thing. Taking a bike belonging to one of Mittsui's toughs, and doing it right in front of their stronghold, wasn't daring. It was fucking suicide.

The ugliness loosened in Takaya's chest and swelled into his face, stretching his lips in a toothy smile.

It took only a few minutes to puzzle out how to avoid the security on the key starter, but each one felt heart-poundingly long. Takaya kept stopping to wipe sweaty hands and check the shadow play in the front window for evidence of discovery. Cheap security dealt with, it was a simple enough task to locate the starter wire. He paused to take the helmet hanging off one handle and put it over his face. The helmet didn't quite fit and Takaya fumbled to adjust it. The last thing he needed when inexpertly riding a stolen motorcycle at night was for the helmet to slide mid-ride and impair his vision. It would be a real shame to crash and deprive Mittsui's goons of the pleasure of killing him. Takaya fought down the bubble of hysteria that threatened to burst into laughter.

With one last glance at the figures moving in the building opposite him, Takaya sucked in a breath and ignited the starter wire. The rev of the bike was terrifyingly loud, and Takaya wasted no time finding his seat and awkwardly pushing off from the curb. He was fortunate enough to have chosen a motorcycle with a short owner. Even so, there was a scary moment when he thought the whole thing would topple over on the street, trapping his leg beneath it and leaving him easy prey.

"_Hey!_"

But it was too late. In a roar of exhaust, Takaya was gone.

* * *

_To be continued..._


End file.
